


Continental Breakfast

by The Stephanois (ballantine)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Deleted Scenes, Ficlet, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27104485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballantine/pseuds/The%20Stephanois
Summary: The silver lining about not being able to sleep for the terror of what lay ahead was they got first dibs on the continental breakfast at the hotel.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Kudos: 13
Collections: Good Intentions: Abandoned and Unfinished WIPs





	Continental Breakfast

The silver lining about not being able to sleep for the terror of what lay ahead was they got first dibs on the continental breakfast at the hotel.

“Anyone else find it kind of weird we haven't seen any employees?” Eddie asked as the group shuffled along the long table laden with food. “Like, who put this all out? How do we know it's not poisoned or drugged or something?”

Ben paused and considered the glistening gray link pierced on his fork. He carefully placed it back on the warming tray. They collectively surveyed the buffet.

“Maybe we should stick to the basics,” suggested Bill.

Richie was already backing towards the door. “Bloody Marys it is.”

Bill looked after him. “I meant – dry cereal?”

Bev followed Richie; likely, Eddie thought, to put in an order for herself. Well, the suckers and drunks could have it all – he would stick to the pre-packaged granola bars stacked between the milk dispenser and bowls of sad fruit.

Eddie was a little in denial.

No way was he was still in Derry. No way had he last night voluntarily penciled in an appointment to go ahead with this plan – plan? _Was_ it a plan? He didn't want to doubt Mike, who he vaguely remembered as being a disturbingly responsible kid, but the man gave off serious vibes of having spent too much time alone for the past, oh, _several fucking decades_ , and it wasn't good for one's mental health to get caught up in another's delusions, especially when one was already vulnerable to anxiety or obsessive-compulsive behavior.

Honestly? Eddie was doing everyone a big favor by maintaining a general front of prickly assholery. They should thank him. They had no idea what they'd be in for if he really let loose.  
  


* * *

  
The dining area of the inn's lounge was about as cheery as the rest of the place; that is, it looked like the abandoned murder room in a cheaply-produced whodunit.

Eddie tore into his granola bar, scattering endless crumbs. The length of the table was dominated by the lethargic clink of spoons in over-full bowls. There was something strangely endearing in seeing Ben's large hands tapping Lucky Charms into his milk; this made him more annoyed.

“Anyone else sleep like shit?” asked Richie as he rejoined them, carrying a tall glass that was the color of puked-up spaghetti and seemed to be about the same texture.

“I didn't sleep at all,” said Bev, right behind him. Her glass was the same height, but much neater in appearance. She'd obviously had practice making her own Bloody Marys.

No one said anything as the two found seats at the ragged end of the table and casually sipped their drinks.

“Mine was okay,” volunteered Mike into the awkward silence. He had bunked in Bill's room rather than go back to his own home; it was almost like he didn't trust them not to sneak away in the middle of the night or something.

“You've been here for almost thirty years,” Eddie pointed out, hostility around a mouthful of stubbornly disintegrating granola. “So like – you're a statistical outlier, okay.”

Mike gave him a long, patient look, like he was regretting having called him but determined to persevere through the struggle nonetheless. Eddie was familiar with the look; he saw it in clients and his wife's relatives all the time.

“Suffice to say, none of us are looking forward to this,” said Bill, shoving his bowl away. He was the type not to drink the milk after. He looked around the table and said, “But I'm glad we're all together again.”

Richie and Bev clinked glasses in a half-sarcastic toast; Mike and Ben nodded along. Eddie was apparently alone in his sense of deep and perfectly reasonable foreboding. As usual.

“We're going to kill it,” says Mike firmly.

“Oh,” said Richie, abruptly lowering his glass, hollow with dismay and his hangover. “That's still happening? Right.”

If Eddie had been sitting next to him, he would've elbowed or slapped him or something. He always knew he could count on Richie.


End file.
